Chapter 23: Returns a King

Anora waited at the palace gate and flung herself at Cailan, regardless of the fact that he was covered in blood—most of it still fairly wet. She wrapped her arms tight around his neck and pressed her cheek against his. "I was afraid I would lose you again," she whispered, voice choked with tears. "When they got to the palace district, and got into the courtyard…" her voice trailed off. "Which Warden finally did it?" she asked.

Cailan retold the story as he unbuckled pieces of his armor, and Anora began to help. She'd never done much with his armor before, so he was surprised that she knew what to do; but he didn't question it. He was just grateful to be here, with her, sharing these quiet moments. At last he was down to the garments that kept his plate from chafing him, and he leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. He was exhausted from a long night of no sleep and nonstop fighting. And now that he did have the chance to stop, the weight of all that had happened slammed into him fully.

He bent over, his scraggly blond hair falling into his face. He felt Anora's hand on his back, warm and solid. There was a heat behind his eyes, burning and prickling there; and slowly, the tears started to leak out. "Sit," Anora ordered, helping him as he slid down the wall and sat. She sat beside him, one hand rubbing his sweat-stained shirt, the other brushing locks of hair from his face. She then hooked one finger under his chin and turned his face so she could look into his eyes. "A great thing was accomplished today," she said at long last. "You led your people to victory; the Blight is ended."

"So many dead," he muttered, his voice a croak. Between the tears and the hot smoky air, it would be some time before his voice was back to normal.

"And you are not among them," Anora said, cupping her hand to his cheek. "Those that died did so knowing that they were saving their country, and serving their king. And you led them to success."

He let her words register. It had been a cooperative effort between him and the Grey Wardens, and the many armies that had been mustered for one cause. But it had been a success. He tried to smile, though he still felt a deep ache at the memory of Riordan's twisted body, and Jowan's wide, blank stare. Not to mention the many soldiers he'd never personally known. It had been a long road from Ostagar.


Spots of bright red blood showed through the thick bandages wound around Fianna's arm, but her eyes were clear and alert. Cailan thought that, after having helped to end a Blight, Fianna would be in a better mood. "She's in a lot of pain, and Wynne has to check it multiple times a day," Alistair explained a couple days later. A muffled cry sounded from inside the room they shared at the palace. "Wynne must be treating the wounds now," he said, wincing as several choice swears echoed through the rafters.

"Let's walk," Cailan suggested. He didn't want to hear Fianna's cries of pain, though her curses were certainly amusing. But he also saw the way Alistair's face contorted with pain, as if he too were going through the same agony. "I'm glad you took my offer to stay at the palace," he said when they'd turned a corner.

"It's a nice place," Alistair said with a grin. "Much nicer than the stables, or even the Chantry dormitories."

Silence hung between them, thick as Ferelden stew. "I can't make up for our father's mistakes," Cailan said at last. "I can only make up for mine, and do the best I can do to right by you as your brother." Alistair rubbed the back of his neck, and his face was turning red. Cailan stopped walking and smiled. "You are my brother; we've had far too few years together as it is, and now that we've both somehow managed to survive the Blight, we should use what years we have left to us."

Alistair smiled, but he looked troubled. "Yes… we did survive, didn't we." He didn't meet Cailan's eye. "I suspect the Grey Wardens will come to claim Jowan's body and return it to Weisshaupt."

"What will happen with it?"

"He'll be memorialized. He's a hero," Alistair said. "After all he did, he redeemed himself. But… what killed him?" he asked in a softer voice, looking off into the distance.

"I thought killing the archdemon was supposed to kill the Warden who struck the killing blow," Cailan said. "That's what Fianna told me."

"It was," Alistair said. "But… there was magic involved," Alistair said, averting his eyes. "Morrigan's magic. None of us was supposed to die."

"That's a pretty vague answer," Cailan said at last.

"I know. And it sounds like bullshit, but sometimes even bullshit can be true," Alistair said. He pasted on a smile that did not quite reach the corners of his warm brown eyes.

"I can have our physicians examine the body," Cailan offered.

Alistair brushed off the suggestion with a wave of his hand. "Jowan went through enough in his life; let's give him some peace in death. We'll deal with the Wardens when the time comes," he said with a shrug. "In the meantime… any cheese in the larders?"


They burned the bodies of those they could find on pyres in the center of the city. The darkspawn corpses were hauled to mass graves outside the city walls where they were piled and burned, and all stayed far from that foul smoke. Cailan himself helped bear Jowan's body to a slab in the royal tombs, where it would lie in state until the Wardens came from Weisshaupt to claim their hero. They'd cleansed his body and dressed him in the blue and grey uniform of the Wardens, which they'd found at the compound the order kept in Denerim. "He died for this country; he died to atone for the mistakes he'd made, and to end the Blight," Cailan said quietly to the few gathered about him. Viviane was there, along with Fergus, Alistair, Fianna, and even Wynne and Eamon.

"He did as well as only a Grey Warden could do," Wynne said solemnly. Considering her derision toward Jowan's blood magic use, this was high praise indeed.

"May the Maker grant him the peace he could not find in this life," Eamon even said.

Later that day the pyres burned about them, and the crackle of the flames was as a hymn to fallen heroes. Cailan glanced sidelong at Alistair and Fianna, healing, but troubled by the thought of what might be in store for their future after whatever magic Morrigan had done.


The spring sun was bright and cheerful, even though the streets of Denerim were still clogged with debris, and burned buildings were still being looted or knocked out of the way; the city was dirty and covered with a layer of soot, but the sun reminded everyone that recovery and rebuilding were possible. Cailan stood before the full length looking glass in his dressing room, clad in stiff finery that felt foreign to him after his long trek in simpler clothes.

Teagan approached, holding the thick, velvet purple robes of state. "Are you ready?" he asked.

There had been a time just over five years ago when Teagan had asked Cailan the same thing, only then Cailan had just nodded, afraid he would be sick if he opened his mouth. Today he stood straight, staring at himself and recognizing just who he was. "Yes," he said, and Teagan helped him hook the heavy robes over the clasps on his shoulders. "I think I should like to name you my advisor, if you'll have it," he said, turning to face his uncle.

Teagan bowed his head in thanks. "The offer is much appreciated, and I am honored; though I will have to see what matters are in Redcliffe after all of this. Eamon may feel the need to take time to recover after his ordeal."

"And get used to the fact his son is a mage," Cailan said. "I wish there was some way…"

Teagan shook his head. "You've always had a complex," he said, but he was smiling. "You can't save everyone, or everything."

"Am I intruding?" Anora's voice came light and airy from the open door, and Cailan looked up. She was breathtaking in a deep purple gown that made her pale skin and golden hair seem to shine, and brought out the violet flecks in her blue eyes when she drew near to him. "I wished to come see you before we had to… oh!" she gasped, when Cailan put his arms around her waist and picked her up.

He kissed her deeply, and she inhaled sharply before relaxing and kissing him back. "Are we ready to face our people?" he asked as he set her down, heedless of Teagan next to him. He had spent far too long questioning his actions, and restraining himself from what he really wanted to do out of fear of what others would think. But no more.

Anora nodded, and the flush in her cheeks only made her look lovelier. They made their way to the Landsmeet Chamber. Anora's hand was small and warm inside of his, and the way their fingers twined together gave him comfort.

Eamon was waiting at the back entry to the chamber, and he bowed his head when he saw Cailan and Anora. There was no mistaking the way he eyed their clasped hands, and the flicker of disappointment that passed over his face was likely just habit, Cailan reasoned. He squeezed Anora's hand as if he could draw her strength into him, and when she squeezed back, he looked his other uncle in the eye and smiled. "Today marks the dawn of a new era," he told Eamon by way of greeting. Eamon only bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement, which made Cailan's stomach lurch a little, but he would deal with it later.

He entered the sun-filled Landsmeet chamber to a chorus of deafening cheers. As many of the nobility that could be there, were. He'd never thought to see these people again, and now they cheered his return. "My people!" he shouted, and rather than die away, the cheers grew louder. He dared a glance to his right, and Anora was smiling beside him. She used to be so cold and stoic during these appearances; perhaps she welcomed the change as well.

Cailan raised his hand for silence, and the roar died down to a murmur. "My people! Today we gather to celebrate those responsible for our victory. There are those that deserve special recognition: the ones who led the final charge against the archdemon, and they remain an inspiration to us all." He looked around at the solemn faces of his people: people he nearly lost to the Blight. He was more grateful to Alistair and Fianna now than ever before. "The Grey Wardens, Fianna Cousland of Highever and my brother, Alistair Theirin!"

There was a slight murmur at the mention of 'brother', but Cailan ignored it. The back doors opened, letting in a shaft of sunlight. Fianna and Alistair entered; her arm was bound up in a sling and she still looked a little pale, but she stood tall and proud. Alistair marched beside her, back straight, eyes forward. He had to be nervous, but he didn't show it, and he even gave Cailan a slight grin as he approached.

Cailan waited until the cheering died down before he spoke again. "There is one who stood against the archdemon and gave the ultimate price: the Grey Warden mage Jowan. He struck the killing blow, giving his own life for his country. His sacrifice must not be forgotten."

There was a stunned silence as the crowd let this news sink in. Many had been at the Landsmeet and knew Jowan as the mage hired to kill Arl Eamon. And no one seemed more surprised by Cailan's news than Eamon himself, who blinked rapidly and was struck speechless. "Yes uncle," Cailan said in a quiet voice so only Eamon, Fianna and Alistair could hear. "He believed that he needed to atone for his sins by giving his life to save you, the Grey Wardens, and this country as a whole." He expected some sort of corroboration from Fianna or Alistair, but when he glanced at the two of them, they just sort of nodded in agreement. Alistair wasn't smiling anymore, but Fianna shrugged her good shoulder in a gesture of deference.

"As thanks for saving this country, and for their assistance in restoring me to my throne, I offer the Grey Wardens a boon of their choosing," Cailan announced, this time to the entire room. "What gift would you ask of your king?"

"We have had much to be grateful for of late," Fianna said. Her imperious tone spoke of her noble breeding. "The restoration of our king to his throne would be boon enough; but since you ask of us, it would be ungrateful to decline." She quirked a grin at Cailan and Anora; even injured, and in front of hundreds of her countrymen, Fianna still could not be serious.

"We would ask that the sacrifices of the Grey Wardens not be forgotten," Alistair said, his voice steady. "If that happens, then we shall truly feel justice is served."

Justice. Cailan had seen the confusing nature of justice throughout his trek across Ferelden and learned more about it in several months than he'd learned in five years of being king. "Justice," he said. "Yes, even with the execution of General Loghain justice for the Grey Wardens was not fully served." He couldn't look to Anora beside him, but he hoped she would understand. "We shall start with a monument here in Denerim; then we shall appoint Chantry scholars to study the darkspawn so that we may be less ignorant of their ways." The people murmured their approval and there was a smattering of applause.

"In the interest of justice for the Grey Wardens and for the Couslands," Cailan said, and Fianna looked up sharply. "I also hereby grant the lands of Arl Howe to the Grey Wardens so they may rebuild."

He expected the silence and the murmurs. Back before Ostagar, Cailan would not have dared to make such a proclamation, nor would he have had the ability to stand before them and stare down the incredulous looks the many nobles bestowed upon him. "This is the proclamation of the King," he said with a nod to punctuate his statement.

"Was that wise?" Anora asked Cailan as the crowds began to dissipate. "Giving away Amaranthine like that."

"It was the right thing to do," Cailan said. "Sometimes what is right isn't always wise, and what's wise won't always be what's right."

He expected an argument from Anora, and she did open her mouth, ready to launch into a discussion, but she met his eyes and then nodded. "I'll trust you, Cailan," she said. "Maker knows it's about time I tried," she added.

"Thank you, for everything," Alistair said when Anora left Cailan's side in order to go mingle with the other nobility.

"What will you do now?" Cailan asked. "Blight's over, you survived… you have options now."

"I'm not sure," Alistair said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Maybe spend some time up in Highever with Fianna's family… maybe head to Amaranthine and help the Order rebuild there." He smiled. "I'm not used to options."

"Well, know you are always welcome here in Denerim, and in the palace," Cailan said, clapping Alistair on the shoulder. Alistair nodded his thanks and went to join Fianna.

Cailan wove through the crowd, accepting bows and curtsies, and thanks and congratulations. He found Fergus, standing beside Viviane. She wore her Chasind clothing, and her long pale hair fell about her shoulders in shining waves. "My King," she said, bowing low. She looked up, and Cailan probably had an incredulous look on his face. "I have decided to remain in the north of Ferelden," Viviane said. "In which case, I believe that makes you my king."

Cailan looked to Fergus, who actually blushed a little. "She is to join me at Highever," Fergus said with a slight shrug. "As the Teyrn, I…well…" His voice trailed off as his blush intensified.

"Whatever the Teyrn of Highever requires, the King shall support," Cailan said simply. "I am happy for you, Fergus; please be welcome here whenever you'd like, not just when custom calls for it."

"I will," Fergus said, and suddenly seemed relieved, as if he expected Cailan would not approve of his choice. "Now for Fianna to find out… though after all she's done and the people she's made friends with, I can't imagine she'll mind much!" He laughed as the tension left him. "Things in Ferelden certainly are changing."

Cailan nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, they are. But they needed to. And I could not have done any of it without you, so thank you."

Fergus bowed. "It was an honor to serve with you, King Cailan."

"And I with you, Teyrn Cousland," Cailan said. They stared at one another for a moment and then dissolved into laughter.

The sound of laughter and animated conversation filled the room. Sunlight streamed in upon Fergus and Viviane, and on Fianna and Alistair. The happy chaos was the most wonderful thing Cailan had ever heard.

He found Anora speaking with the Bann of Dragon's Peak, who politely excused himself. "Your adoring public will want you to mingle more, my lord," she said, but her eyes twinkled and she was actually smiling.

"They're quite taken with Alistair and Fianna," Cailan said, sliding his arm around Anora's waist. He pulled her close. "These formal affairs drive me nuts," he whispered to her. He leaned in and smelled the freshness of her hair and her light perfume.

"Still?" Anora asked, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

He grinned. "Always," he said. "Some things never change."

"You've changed," she said. "But I think I like it." She pulled back and looked up at him, searching his face. She narrowed her eyes slightly. "You left a boy, but returned a man. That's it."

Cailan laughed and, even though everyone was watching, he picked her up and spun her around in the noise and sunlight. There was applause from the nobles when he set her down, laughing and breathless, and they made their way to their thrones to take their places and preside over the court together for the first time in nearly a year.

He had indeed left as a boy, but returned as so much more than a man. He had returned a king.